Haría Todo Por Ti
by Versions of Violence
Summary: There's nothing in this world I wouldn't do to make it back to you. I'll wait a thousand years, I'll kill a hundred people. I love you. Wait for me. AkuRoku, AU.
1. Axel, pt 1: the start of a travesty

**A/N**; So, yeah. AU. This is going to be my first attempt at multi-chapter fic. Please forgive me if I fail; college is a taskmaster like no other. The plan is that chapters will alternate between the two stars of the show and will always be written from a first-person PoV, though this is subject to change.

The title is rather shamelessly borrowed from the brilliant Quillslinger and her story _Deceitful Above All Things_, which I highly, highly recommend. It's an incredible and heartbreaking piece. And I honestly just love that phrase so much. _Haría todo por ti - for you, I would do everything._

This story may or may not be based on some real events with serious amounts of artistic license. As far as first chapters go, this is probably an incredibly depressing way to start a story, but I promise it will get better. And worse. But mostly better, in the long run. Happy endings, after all, happen more often than you might think.

* * *

The way he fit in my arms was always so goddamn perfect. He'd slip right in and tuck his arms around my waist and he was the exact right height for me to prop my chin on his head comfortably, so I could shut my eyes and soak in his warmth. I had the idiot thought once that it was like a two piece puzzle, but fuck, who the hell makes a two piece puzzle? That'd be the most retarded thing ever. There's no challenge. There's no point. And that's maybe reason number one it wasn't so perfect after all. It worked almost too well. The way he'd lean up and press his lips to mine and always taste sweet, the way he was effortlessly beautiful and didn't even know it, the way we made each other laugh ourselves drunk over stupid shit nobody else would get. It was just too good. Nothing that good is meant to last.

I'll never forget the first time the kid showed up at my door, pink-cheeked from the cold and skittish like a deer in the headlights, looking ready to bolt in an instant even when he gave me that adorable little shy smile he sometimes gets when he's not thinking about it. It felt like something I'd been waiting for all my life had all of a sudden slid right in and clicked smoothly into place, and that was that. I grabbed his bags and ushered him in the door, gave him my most dazzling grin, and welcomed him to my humble abode.

That week-

Man, there's a reason I don't talk about that week anymore. I'd wake up days, months later in a cold sweat thinking maybe the whole thing had just been some really sick dream and against my better judgment go tearing through everything I owned until I found the pictures again. Every single time I'd regret it because once I remembered it was real, I had to remember what I'd lost. What I'd willingly let go.

I let the kid walk away. The week ended and we stood there in the airport, awkward as hell in front of the gate, and this time when he looked at me all I could feel was the yawning emptiness. I stared right back. And he said, _I'll see you again in a few months, right? That's not so bad. _And I said, _Sure, kid. It's a date._

His eyes were so blue. I know I noticed it before that moment, but somehow, right then, their clarity and gravity pierced right into me. When he turned and walked away, when his gaze left mine for the last time, those blue blue eyes ripped a piece of my soul right out and he took it with him through security and onto that plane and it was just gone. Just like that.

It hurt so fucking much I couldn't breathe. I couldn't goddamn think straight. Months just sailed on by and every single goddamn day I felt like I was dying. I hate that stupid kid. Without him, this never would have happened to me. I wouldn't have turned into some maudlin, mopey shadow of my former self. I never would have goddamn known what it meant to be 100% complete, to be actually, truly happy. You don't miss what you never had. Doesn't hurt to lose what you never gained in the first place.

I guess it doesn't matter in the end, though. That or it's just plain too late. Both. I am so in love with this -- _god, we're practically the same age, what the hell am I talking about_ -- kid that this whole thing is just a lost cause. Everything, every day of the rest of my life is a lost cause unless I get him back.

It's probably unspeakably pathetic for a guy like me to even be thinking this way, I know. But hey, I can at least take comfort in the fact that Shakespeare would write the most kickass play in history about us. Or maybe he already did. You know the one, with all the stabbing and the poison and light breaking in yonder windows and all that. And in the event of that particularly unfortunate metaphor, at least I know I'm not the one wearing the goddamn skirt.

... yeah. Sometimes the humor comes back. But it hasn't been quite the same since Roxas walked away. Nothing has.

We were perfect and not perfect, expanding and contracting to fit together into spaces too big and too small, and it never worked. It was never going to be fate and it was always going to end and we felt it. The most heartbreaking thing about our mutual destruction was that we knew it was coming all along and went through with it anyway. There was a burn like venom behind my eyes watching him leave because I knew we'd both end up with wet faces and broken hearts but even so-

_Even so-_

We said goodbye anyway, and that was that.

The thing that maybe gets me the most is the perfect, irritating as hell clarity with which I remember what happened next. Sitting in the airport cafe knocking back burning hot black coffee like it was going out of style and trying to pretend like I wasn't crying my eyes out. You try to tell yourself they're manly tears because you're not honking and snorting like a deranged seal like people sometimes do, and you're not blubbering and whimpering like a girl. You're just silent and you don't have a goddamn choice about the tears that won't stop coming out. But in the end you're still crying so hard you can't breathe, your throat still burns, your shoulders are still trembling, and the people around you still shift uncomfortably and shuffle away.

That was the precise moment an insidious little voice said in the back of my head, _Welcome to the rest of your life._


	2. Roxas, pt 1: maybe just a little bit

**A/N**; In interest of making things _happen _in this story instead of just having it be lots of rambly thinking, I've already changed my mind about format. Woo! Next chapter will be third person PoV of things actually, you know, going on, interactions and conversations and all that good stuff! May or may not include fluffy flashbacks with requisite happy times and kissing, as well as lots of aaaaaaangst. We all love angst, right? Yes we do.

Anyway, this will all also help me sort out the timeline, which I swear makes sense, but which I realize isn't going to come across very clearly here. Next chapter's already more or less written, but I'm going to space posting things out just a _little _bit. Where's the fun in getting it all at once?

* * *

It wasn't as if he just let me walk away. I mean, I had the plane tickets already. I couldn't not go home. What would I tell my parents? My friends? "Oh, sorry guys, lost the ticket, think I'll be staying here a while longer"? I had school to get back to. My _life_. It wasn't like some big, dramatic thing. I just .. I had to go. That was all. That was life.

Besides, it wasn't me who .. I mean, it wasn't my idea to..

God, he makes such a huge fucking drama out of it and I spend nearly every night worrying myself sick, watching him rip himself to shreds with rage and pain and what the hell can I do but sit here?! It hurts just, just sitting here and hearing him say all those things, to know how much he's suffering because he loves.. me. He loves me. He told me so.

I love him, too. I guess that's why this is so fucked up. Why can't two people who're in love just .. be together? Why is that some hard, strange idea for people to grasp?

I mean, I -- I know. This makes sense, too. This is just life. But like I said, it wasn't my idea for us to break up. It was his.

I didn't make him confront his parents about me. Didn't make him come clean. Didn't make him have those arguments. He said he wanted to. And of course I was hoping it'd work out, but somehow I didn't think...

His mom's really .. nice. I like her a lot. I felt like she and I had something in common .. we'd both make fun of him when he wasn't around. I wonder if she hates me now. Probably.

And yeah, it .. it made sense, too. The distance. It really was too much. Right? I mean, when you can only fly out to see a person every few months or so, once or twice a year, that's not .. really a relationship, I guess. A real relationship means being there to ..

To ..

You know, maybe I'll never know.

It just .. you know. It's over, now. I mean, we're still friends and all. We care about each other too much for .. to just, you know, stop. But it gets so goddamn hard, watching him burst and fall apart. It's all my fault. It's all for me, because of me. He loves me too much. It'd be frightening if I didn't feel exactly the same in return. I guess I'm just .. quieter, out of us two. He always was the reckless one, the loud one who'd go out in the crowds and draw attention by being a big ham and there'd be me just .. standing back and watching and laughing. I always loved it when he did that. Idiot.

But now it just means that .. he acts out his pain, and I keep mine inside. I just don't say anything. Why make it worse for him? For both of us? I don't really know who I'm trying to fool, anymore, him or myself. Maybe if I seem okay, he'll move on. Maybe if we pretend none of this ever happened, he'll be able to heal, and I won't have to watch him die every single day. I don't know how much longer I can do this. I don't know what I'll do if he hurts himself, because I still really fucking...

This is so ... messed up. It's just not fair. I love him.

Why didn't I hang on to him?

Why didn't I .. why didn't I fight? I know .. he was so desperate and uncertain and I knew he wasn't sure, but I let go.

Maybe it was his idea, but I was the one who said okay. In the end, it was really _me_ who turned his back.

Because when he asked me back two months later, I still said no.

I just couldn't do it. Nothing had changed. And god, you know, I wish .. I wish I just had. Especially considering what happened after.

And I'm not -- I'm not talking about after.

I guess I should have known. Axel is really ... he's incredible. I was surprised when I found out he was single, right before he asked me out. I guess he just seemed like the kind of guy .. other people would snatch up if they could. If he'd let them.

So I really shouldn't have been such an idiot. It was wishful thinking to believe he wouldn't find someone else.

It just happened so quickly. Like a sucker punch to the gut.

I never told him how much it hurt. He didn't need to know.

You know, I, I ... maybe I should .. have fought. I try to tell myself that it's ... it's okay, somehow. That being his best friend is all I really need. Some days that works, and some days it doesn't. It took so long for things to reach any sense of normalcy between us again. Because he just suffered and suffered and suddenly this new person came along and he wasn't .. suffering anymore. Just like that, or so it seemed. And what the hell did that mean for me? The person he'd been pining over? I let him go, _and he left. _I really don't .. know what I was expecting. I was so pissed at him for a while, for that. What the hell was I, anyway, for him to just toss me aside so suddenly? That stupid, goddamn--

No, no, that's not .. I know. I know whose fault it is. I could have held on. I should have fought as hard for him as he fought for me, and I didn't. And I really hate myself for that. But right now we're just best friends. I support him and he supports me and somehow it works out. Things aren't really the same as they used to be, but I guess that's to be expected.

He used to say .. if maybe, years from now, if somehow things worked out .. maybe we could be together. I haven't even dared to think I'll get another chance, you know? I don't want to bother hoping only to have my heart crushed again. It's just not worth the pain.

But I know that if he asked me again -- asked me back -- I'd say yes.

You know what, though?

Sometimes I just want to kick his stupid ass for doing this to me. Jerk.


	3. January

**A/N**; I am a liar. I am a terrible, horrible, disgusting liar. I meant to do this with regularity! When I said I had the next chapter written, I meant in my head, as opposed to in WordPad or any other place useful or digital. I do apologize for failing. Life bit me in the ass, as it will, and I lost all passion for writing.

I thus dedicate this chapter to the adorable toastyoats, whose flurry of reviews and favorites made me smile on a very shitty night. Thank you for reminding me that this story existed, and that I like writing, and that this is fun and awesome and the best way to be spending my time while things are crappy around here. Updates will be sporadic, likely in bursts, but I'll be damned if I won't finish this.

Hanyway, to conclude this irritatingly long author's note, here's the RL chapter, as promised. I no longer envision a rhyme or reason to which chapters will be the boys' thoughts and which will be third person real life happenings - they'll be dictated by my whims, as with most things in my life. Enjoy, review or don't, all that jazz, and happy belated new year to all you freaks and geeks.

* * *

The first time they kissed was something special. They went out to a dark road where they could see the city lights across the river, and though they started out far apart, in the blink of an eye Roxas somehow found his way into Axel's arms.

The first time they kissed was something truly, utterly stupid. Unbelievably, insufferably fuck-me-up-the-ass, choke-me-on-the-sap idiotic. At least, according to Axel's later analysis. An analysis delivered once he stopped laughing at the way Roxas had darted under his arm when they walked through a dark tunnel on the way back to Axel's car. Roxas had glowered and huffed, breath puffing in a great white cloud in Axel's face, before sulkily tucking himself tighter under Axel's arm. That's when Axel made his thoughts known, and that's when Roxas punched him in the arm, huffed, and failed to keep the grin off his face.

Most of the drive home was spent in silence, but towards the end, Roxas couldn't help a murmured concession of "Yeah, okay, that was a little .. cheesy."

"But perfect," Axel drawled, smirking.

"But perfect," Roxas agreed before hitting Axel again. "Asshole."

The lead-up to that moment of embarrassing perfection had started three days prior, when Roxas had shown up for the first time at Axel's doorstep, pink-cheeked and nervous. He'd looked so fucking cute in that bright scarf over the black pea coat, Axel had thought with a great deal of self-loathing.

Not that he himself had been nervous, you see. No sir. Not Axel, number one cool customer on the east coast. Totally hadn't worn a hole in his carpet waiting for Roxas to show up at the door. Except he had, oh, but he _had. _Threadbare and worn was his poor abused carpet by the time he finally heard Roxas's voice crackling, staticky, through the door pager. He had wandered and paced and chugged his way through three cups of coffee and had just decided on sitting down to tear his hair out when he'd heard the merciful rapping of knuckles against wood. He did his manly best to hide the knee-meets-coffee-table-thanks-to-trying-to-stand-too-quickly induced wince when he ran down to let Roxas into the building.

It had all been worth it, though, when Roxas said _hi. _His voice so familiar, reminding Axel of rustling papers and lazy sunshine. And the way he'd smiled had filled Axel to the brim with ...

Something.

He ushered Roxas inside, knowing he was grinning like an idiot and not caring, and let the door shut behind them.

The plan had been set in motion months prior, when the two finally settled on meeting. They both lived in the United States, which made air fare considerably cheaper than it could have been, much to the relief of their wallets. There was one teensy, tiny little snag, though. Roxas lived in Bumfuck Nowhere, Midwest, United States of Totally Lameass, while Axel lived on The Motherfucking East Coast, Just South of New York City, United States of _Awesome. _In light of these facts, they had made the mutual decision that Awesomeville beat out Bumfuck, the tickets had been bought, and the waiting had begun.

It was a good plan in part because they were both in college, and Axel, in particular, hadn't lived home in years. He had his own (pretty nice, in his opinion) apartment, his roommate was on vacation, and his parents knew better than to visit uninvited. It couldn't have been more perfect.

Except for the part where Axel's car broke down two days before Roxas arrived. Hence the kid taking a cab all the way there from the airport while Axel paced like a caged tiger. The cab fare made Axel feel slightly nauseous, but he decided it was all totally worth it the moment they got all of Roxas's things put away and he could pull the kid into his arms for a real hug for the first time.

Roxas, for his part, was just glad to be on safe, solid ground again. He wasn't much for flying, heights, mass crowds of people, or waiting. He'd experienced all four in abundance, and he'd been just about at his wit's end. At least, until he walked up to the door.

His smile had been one hundred percent genuine, and one hundred percent for Axel. Above their first kiss, above their first hug, above their first _anything, _their first moment seeing each other in the flesh had been more important, more incredible to him than anything. Actually seeing the face of the guy he'd fallen in love with from a distance was just .. good. It was really fucking good. It was _real. _

Not much happened in those first three days after Roxas arrived. They were both aware - hyper aware, painfully aware - that they only had a week total, and time was slipping away much too quickly. But Roxas had wanted to see the big city, never having set foot in New York before in his life, and those days where a whirlwind of travel and tours and winding through crowds and sightseeing and museums and diners and whatever the hell else. Not that they didn't spend time alone. Oh, they did. But somehow, Roxas never got around to working up the nerve to kissing Axel just yet, and Axel never got around to coaxing him into it. "Coaxing" didn't feel right, anyway. The moment needed to be special.

Let it be said that Axel is a closet romantic. Or, perhaps more accurately, a closet _case _romantic. For all his cursing and laconic, wicked sarcasm, he was a bitch with a heart of gold, and he wanted to treat Roxas right. That, or at least make him blush. It was one of Axel's goals in life to make Roxas blush and then proceed to tease him dead about it.

So he'd planned their little visit to that lookout days in advance. He hadn't planned the way the moment would go, but the way Roxas had ended up in his arms and looked up at him with those big baby blues, well ...

"Perfect," he muttered that night as he dressed for bed. "Man, if only I coulda had some romantic music swelling in the background."

Three days gone and they'd only kissed. Axel didn't get his hopes up for sex in the next four. Roxas was too reserved, too quiet. Axel didn't want to push him. For all his innuendos and teasing, he respected boundaries. When forced.

And Roxas forced them. That he loved Axel did not mean he was going to give the guy carte blanche to ravish him. Or slobber all over him, which is the image Roxas's mind gave him. Gross. Not that Roxas didn't like intimacy, didn't like the feel of Axel's arms around him or the heat of his mouth or the way their tongues tangled together or, uh. Er. Any of that. He did like it. Very, very, very much. But just because he liked all that didn't mean he was even particularly interested in sex. At least, not now. Even if it meant months more, he wanted to wait. He didn't want to have a moment where they sat down and said, "Okay, let's have sex!" It wasn't going to work like that. It would have to happen naturally or not at all. And considering they slept in completely separate rooms, well. Having it happen "naturally" was a long shot.

They'd agreed before Roxas arrived to sleep in separate rooms. They'd known each other for over a year, had been technically dating for months, but this was their very first time meeting in person. For Roxas's comfort and Axel's peace of mind, they settled on separate rooms for this little visit, until they got more used to each other's, well ... presences. The realness of actually being with each other, of seeing every smile and feeling every brush of fingertips. It was overwhelming. Plus, well.

"Fuck, we're such girls," Axel had muttered somewhere around day four.

"You think so?" Roxas propped his chin on his hand, letting his spoon laze into his bowl of cereal. It was an honest question. "I mean, I don't know. Sure, we've known each other for a while, but we're practically strangers in person. I wouldn't want to just hop into bed immediately."

"Girls," Axel groused, stabbing at his eggs with a little more zeal than was necessary. "I mean, I know. It's a good idea. But shit, seriously, what's the big deal? I won't jump you, you won't jump me." He looked up, then, giving Roxas a rare serious look, green eyes inscrutable. "Just one night, Roxas."

This was not familiar territory. Roxas had paused, expression this side of deer-in-the-headlights until he regained his composure and thought it over seriously. For all intents and purposes, they sort of WERE strangers. At least .. in person. Which didn't make much sense, since they'd been speaking regularly for months, but it was something Roxas _felt, _deep down. It felt right to take this slow, to take the time to get to know Axel as a real human being and not just text in an IM box or a voice on the phone.

Just one night, he said.

"Okay," Roxas said after a long pause. "I .. think I'd like that too."

And so it was that Axel and Roxas fell asleep in each other's arms, and never once engaged in anything that would merit a rating above PG. Very Disney. Very cute. Very ... powerful.

Axel found himself thinking about that night over and over as he drove Roxas to the airport on the final day. The normal part of him, the part that was an asshole and a clown and powered with ten kinds of bravado, thought he goddamn well should have tried _something. _Hell, he'd have settled for a fucking handjob. But the other part of him, the deeper part, the part that surfaced with stony expressions and quiet words when things turned nasty, knew better. Unfortunately. As fluffy and retarded as it was to just fall asleep together like some lovey dovey couple in a shitty rom com, Axel knew that he'd end up treasuring that night, those long, quiet hours, way more than he'd treasure a handjob. The handjob, sure it'd feel nice, but in a blink it'd be over and there'd be sweat and cum and uncomfortable slick sticky wetness and one of them would fall asleep and then they'd wake up thinking they'd missed some sort of chance. Girly as it was, at that moment, falling asleep with Roxas in his arms, Axel had felt more at peace than ever before in his entire life.

Goddamn shame it probably wouldn't ever be happening again, then. Ever.

They talked about it all the way on that long drive up to the airport. Roxas was quiet, Axel was blazing, and it went more or less the same way it had gone a hundred times already.

"I don't really know what to tell you," Roxas had murmured.

"I don't know what to tell me either! I know pretty goddamn well they won't be happy. It's long _distance, _it's not _smart, _why didn't you tell us you were _gay, _oh my god." Axel beat the heel of his hand into the steering wheel for the sixth time and glowered at the car in front of them. "It's going to be hell. But I've gotta do it, Roxas. If this -- us -- if this is gonna last, _one _set of parents has to be in the know and supporting us."

"But you already said they won't support you," Roxas pointed out. "What makes you think they'll change their minds?"

"Nothing. Nothing really. Good grades? Being on my best behavior? Fuck, I try my best, I do everything they ask, they've gotta just give me this. This one fucking thing. They can't really deny their son something that makes him feel good, right? Happy? Isn't that what parents are supposed to want for their kids?"

Roxas only shrugged a shoulder, looking out the window. "I guess. It never works out that way, though. They want what's 'best.' And if you don't agree with them on what that is..."

"It all goes to shit." Axel groaned, letting his forehead thump against the wheel as he came to a stop at a light. He did it hard enough that he made the horn blare, startling the car ahead of him and earning an angry flipping of the bird after the guy rolled down his window. Scowling, Axel had flipped it right back.

After that had come finding the right terminal. Parking. Dragging Roxas's suitcases in through the sliding doors, getting him checked in, and making their slow, meandering way over to the gate. Axel kept his arm slung around Roxas's shoulders the whole time. Loose, easy contact, but neither could bring themselves to tighten the meager connection. It would have felt too desperate.

But the moment came, inevitably, no matter how hard either of them wished it wouldn't. Roxas refused to even face the gate, instead plopping himself down in a seat and looking only straight ahead at the opposite wall. Axel, after a moment's hesitation, dropped down beside him. They had a few minutes before Roxas had to go, after all. Might as well make the best of it.

"I'll, uh. I'll let you know what my parents say, once I talk to them."

Roxas made a vague noise of affirmation, but didn't look up.

"It'll be okay, Rox. I know I can convince them. Once they're on board, it'll be smooth sailing."

And then Roxas _did _look at him, and Axel felt all his fake optimism shatter and vanish. He sighed heavily, looking away himself. "Or something."

"Seriously, Axel. It'll ... be okay. Maybe not the way you think, but ... we'll see each other again, you know? It won't be that long."

"Yeah," Axel murmured, finally caving to what they both wanted and planting a kiss on Roxas's hair as he wound an arm back around his shoulders. "Yeah, I know."

He did know. But what he knew was not what he had really thought he'd know. Which, really, was painfully circuitous, but basically meant that Axel knew they were in for a lot of shit, and not the happy ending they wanted.

He knew, for instance, with a leaden certainty, that he'd never see Roxas again after the kid walked through that gate. So it was with stinging eyes and a stony expression that he sent Roxas off, watched him hand over his boarding pass and lug his shit onto the conveyor belt for the carry-on luggage check, walk through the metal detector, and, and. And. Axel managed a half-hearted wave, which was returned with a quiet smile. And then Roxas vanished around the corner.

And so it was that Axel ended up in some shitty airport cafe trying not to cry his eyes out and failing.

And so it was that he drove back to his apartment and had a fantastic, thunderous fit, storming and raging and breaking until he felt better.

And so it was that he went home to see his parents for the last week of his winter break and confront them about Roxas, the love of his life, and try to convince them that Roxas was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

It didn't work.

And so it was that not two weeks after Roxas's visit, one of the greatest times in both their lives, that Roxas and Axel broke up due to irreconcilable distance.

It was really such a tragedy.


End file.
